


When in Doubt ...

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Series: Bazooka Loops [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Dino/Hibari Kyōya, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Dino/Sawada Tsunayoshi, Opportunistic Dino (Reborn!), Time Travel, Twenty Year Later Dino (Reborn!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: 20YL!Dino's side of the Bazooka.(He'll leave being salacious to his husband; he has shit to fix.)
Relationships: Dino & Bono (Reborn!), Dino & Reborn (Reborn!), Dino & Romario (Reborn!)
Series: Bazooka Loops [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902202
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	When in Doubt ...

The pink smoke takes him by surprise; he’d been contemplating how best to persuade Kyōya to fuck him when it had hit. (His pretty Cloud was such a ridiculous traditionalist at times, and while he adored fucking Kyōya, occasionally a man could appreciate some variation. And trying to persuade his otouto to do anything other than flush prettily and bend over was a non-starter.) 

It also takes him by surprise because the damn bazooka has been in pieces since they’d escaped the mess with the future-that-never-would-be; as he’d understood the geeks’ explanation, they’d broken the universe and _mostly_ put it back together. He had no memories of being hit by the Bovino bazookas that he couldn’t account for!

“Ciaossu.” He flinches a little bit, wishing for his box animal and a firearm of his own; that particular word, with that specific slightly squeaky intonation from directly behind him, brought unpleasant memories to light. His whip would have to do to defend himself; at least Reborn sounded close enough that he could knock Leon off his hat or out of his grip. “You appear to have grown, pipsqueak-Valentino. I thought that the rumours about the bazookas had been grossily exaggerated.”

“Don Cavallone. Bucking Horse. Or even just Dino.” His dominant hand plucks at his whip, Flames singing softly, rising in response to his anxiety and Reborn’s proximity. “If you’re calling me Valentino the version I’ve displaced has to be what, fourteen? It’d make sense, given I’m forty-four, I suppose; well, as much sense as the Bovino’s toys are capable of making, anyway. We’ll see in two minutes just how experimental this version of the forsaken thing is; either my younger self will return, or I’ll take the opportunity to fix the fucked up mess my father left, while he receives an ‘education’ at our Cloud’s hands.” 

“Hmph. Even at forty-four, you’re decades too young to challenge me, Don Cavallone.”

He lets his lip curl. “In my timeline, I was chosen to be your successor before my kohai twisted the Curse, Reborn. Make of _that_ what you will.” Reborn twitches and he grins. “And as there’s been no more smoke, shall we retire to the Villa? I suspect I can set the Family back onto something like an even keel given a few hours in my father’s office. I know where all our skeletons are, -”

“Dare I ask what lessons my student might be learning, Don Cavallone?”

“Our Cloud has mellowed a lot since we first met; at worst, he’ll get a thorough introduction to sex.” Reborn raises an eyebrow at him, clearly questioning his casual comfort with the idea of his partner fucking someone else. “The tenth generation is complicated, Reborn. And speaking of one of those complications: has Xanxus moved into his Rain Cloud’s territory yet?”

“His Rain Cloud’s …?”

He scrubs his face. “Squalo. He has himself convinced he’s ‘just’ a Rain, but in my time he wears both of the relevant rings for Xanxus.” 

“Xanxus has been the Varia’s Boss for six months.” He hisses and lets his Flames ripple out, hoping that he’d be able to call one of his horses - the Bovino were his neighbours and an unholy nightmare most of the time - rather than having to waste time walking back. “You know the terms of my contract, Don Cavallone. Have I fulfilled it, or have you had to modify it?”

“If you’re fishing about the heir clause, I genuinely prefer men, Reborn. But I do start filling my nursery at 25. My oldest is doing well at university, at the moment; my youngest is even harder to peel away from our horses than I was at their age.”

“Arranged marriage?”

“Shamal’s assistance. I enjoyed the process.” He grins, remembering the time spent as _Donna_ Cavallone. “Perhaps I’ll have to persuade our Cloud to allow me another.” One of his stallions - Ira, Scuderia’s sire - canters up to them, and whinnies in confusion. “Sorry, old friend. There’s been some Flame weirdness.” He holds out a palmful of his Flames to the horse, who noses it delicately, clearly trying to decide what to do, and then nuzzles him. He mounts the stallion, settling onto his bareback, and eyes his former tutor. “Going to ride with me, Reborn, or walk back? The bazooka swaps the victims’ positions _precisely_ ; your student will return to wherever I’m standing - or sprawling - when the bazooka runs out, so there’s no need to lurk here.”

“Hmph.” He shakes his head as Reborn jumps up onto his shoulder, grateful that his former tutor hadn’t decided to startle his mount _too_ badly. He couldn’t remember any particular harmful incidents from his version of this timeline, but there had been a couple of near misses and Flame Active horses, and that had been bad enough. “How long could this last?”

He urges the stallion into moving before he answers, feeding his Flames into his mount to help Ira move faster and more confidently (and maybe kindle the Flames he can feel lurking in the stallion’s soul). “Eighteen months is the worst-case scenario. _But_ that was due to tampering to avert something, not unlike the day you were cursed. More likely will be more than an hour but less than a day; I have some experience with being the victim, but my kohai is the real ‘expert’. 

“You seem awful confident that you won’t change anything, Don Cavallone.”

“It’s more than I’m confident I can change things, Reborn. As best as I understand the explanations, all the timelines prior to the shatter point _lead_ to the shatter point in some way, and exist on the other side of it in some form; not all of them are linked up well enough to allow for a linear transit by the bazooka the Bovino invented, but they can be ‘lived’ along. When the Bazooka hits the shatter point, it sometimes skips sideways a few realities.” He chuckles. “Be glad you’re less than ten years from that event; the bazooka works in units of ten, and you really wouldn’t want my younger self tangled up in that mess.”

“… You understand more of my math tutoring than you let on, Don Cavallone.”

“That’s what you take from that? Yes. I just do better at Decision and Statistical Mathematics rather than Mechanics.“ He pauses, concentrating on coaxing Ira over the looming fence and into the Villa gardens rather than going a long way round to the carriageway. “Are you going to try and stop me if I clear out the rats? The Family is on the ropes right now, but the three years they were left in my timeline meant we dipped _much_ lower financially -”

“Mark up the evidence. Pipsqueak-Valentino isn’t Active enough or competent to hold the Family if you go on a murder spree, even if it’s for a good reason. I’ll pick the worst offenders off over the next six months or so.”

“If you’d prefer I _don’t_ kill them myself, I’d rather trade favours with Squalo. I have some information he’ll want, and it’ll go down much better if he knows how he’s going to pay for it.” Reborn’s Flames feel like he’s a hairbreadth from shooting him, and he vaults off Ira’s back, ducking under the bullet and allowing his Flames to rise until they’re dancing across his skin in thin wisps; he feels Reborn’s astonishment at his easy evasion and takes mercy on the man. “And my younger self’s clumsiness is disHarmony. If you want to avoid him going ass over tit at random, he needs at least one Guardian within a hundred metres or so of him at all times, at this age, and you need to skip the ‘Useless’ as a nickname component; overuse it and that functional circle will diminish until he has to be within arms’ reach of one of them.”

“Hmph. Your Flames are stronger than I expected his Flames would ever become. I’ll allow you to do as you will as long as I can spectate; you seemed to have picked up my taste for chaos at least.” He snorts, amused. “Does he have Guardian candidates at the moment? This thing hashes my senses -” Reborn actually touches his pacifier, making it shimmer, and he itches to take it off him; he’s so clearly exhausted by the thing that even the Mare Rings would feel like a respite to the man. “- to be sure.”

“Three. Four if I can defuse a specific piece of blackmail in time. He won’t meet our Cloud for seven years or so, and as he’s five years our junior and very invested in his _very_ vulnerable territory, I wouldn’t suggest searching him out early unless you’re willing to deal with that.”

“And the sixth?”

“Very, very complicated. It doesn’t get resolved until after the second part of the shatter point I mentioned.” He grins and stretches. “You can probably guess who several of my candidates are?”

“I can. If you could prime them, maybe? If nothing else, I have a contract to fulfil, and Valentino would be easier to torment if he didn’t go arse over tit if someone breathes too hard.” Reborn sounds so put upon he wants to laugh out loud. He really had been clumsy at fourteen, and Reborn hadn’t helped. “And blackmail?”

“Mmmm. Timo will demand my best-fit Lightning in a few months. I didn’t even have a minor bond, and the alternate price was far too high; he went voluntarily, but it left me with that slot unfilled until I was thirty and ended with him being paralysed.” He slips through the protections around the Villa, opening the route directly into the Don’s office and shuts it before Reborn can follow him. (He knows how to hold it open for someone, but he has no desire to do so; thinking about Niccola and Timo’s mistreatment of him raises his blood pressure alarmingly.) 

The office is dusty; he’s reasonably sure he had avoided using it until he was almost eighteen in his own timeline, and Romario had a working office elsewhere in the villa where his consigliere had kept things ticking over while Reborn chased him around. Still, the old Mist workings would have kept the ledgers up-to-date. 

He flares his Flames, bringing the villa awake, and his Sun and Mist both perk up and head in his direction, curious and determined. Reborn, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice, which only confirms his statement about the pacifiers. (He hadn’t experienced any such effect himself, but then they rotated the tri-ni-sette regularly; his children had thought chibi!papa and chibi!chichi-ue were both hysterical playmates growing up.) He flicks through the main ledger on the desk looking for the set of numbers he remembers - the most egregious of the hidden losses, the ones that had really offended him when he was younger - and finds them just as the primary door opens.

“Boss -” a surge of Mist Flames shove into the room, looking for an illusion to collapse, and he’s very much not insulted by Bono’s response, “- what the fuck has Reborn done _this_ time?!”

“The Bovino have a crude, weaponised form of time travel. It swaps you with your future self, mostly as a distraction. Normally it only does ten years, but it’s in the testing phase, and I’m forty-four.”

“You don’t say. You grow up pretty, Boss.”

“You should see me when I play Donna, Romario.” His Sun shudders, and if he didn’t know how much Romario _appreciated_ his Tiberia impersonation, he’d think the man was horrified. “And you get a full nursery to spoil out of it, too, at least in my timeline.”

“Is Valentino safe?”

“Safe enough. The bazooka swaps positions perfectly; I was visiting our Cloud’s natal estate. And thanks to my cute little kohai, we’re mostly at peace in the Ukiyo, so he’s unlikely to end up more than bruised.” He spins the ledger around, and Romario steps closer. “But we can discuss how that happened on future trips; I can’t see Reborn resisting the temptation the bazooka represents.”

“Yes, well, your tutor is a menace, Boss. Any tips on how to minimise the negative effects on your younger self?”

“Let mini!me have what he’s asking for. You two really are the best choices. It’ll reduce his clumsiness, and he’ll stop accidentally flaring at Reborn, which is winding him up.” Romario squeaks and Bono looks thoughtful. “It took until I was eighteen before you agreed in my personal timeline; the price I and Niccola paid for that was quite high, so I’d really rather you pulled your heads out of your asses a little earlier, this time.” 

“Boss -”

“Turn it over in your own time, Romario. I need to show you something else that I know you’ve been looking for.” He pushes the ledger nearer to Romario. “The reason you’ve not been able to find the problem is it’s not just _one_ sub-Boss. It’s two-thirds of them, and they cover for each other. But the easiest thread to pull, the one I found first, is this one.” Romario eyes him, and then picks up the ledger, following the numbers he highlighted, and then looking at him in confusion.

“That’s well within normal ranges for winter forage for the herd.”

“For a hard winter where we’ve had to bring the herd ‘in’ and feed them exclusively on first-cut alfalfa to keep them healthy. Not a mild winter that they’ve been roaming widely enough I could pull Ira to me in under five minutes while on the Bovino lands, Romario. I originally caught in it in three years time when we nearly lost half the herd. It was messy; Squalo actually gave me a Varia name in amused recognition of the mess I made in my Rage.”

“I’m suddenly grateful that we’ve had mild winters for the last few years, Boss.” Bono sounds thoroughly entertained. “Did you use the whip at your belt, or your Flames?”

“A mix of both. And Ira kicked a few, too.” He smiles at the memory. “He was the first of the horses to go Flame Active; we’d thought it was possible, but he managed it.” The pink smoke starts to gather, and he whines. “Fuck. Find a way to tell Squalo he’s got rats. The Cloud officer’s working with the Carabinieri and the Lightning’s a CEDEF plant -” the bazooka snatches him up, tearing him out of the past, and his body aches and burns as he’s thrown back into his present.

**Author's Note:**

> I am still alive, but I've had a phenomenally crap week (among other things, organising a funeral is emotionally exhausting, and workwise, I'm public health adjacent ...).


End file.
